On Writing
by zoeller
Summary: When a popular reality show that follows the lives of celebrities wants to feature Usagi-san, Misaki finds himself forced to face the question: Where exactly does he want to fit in Usagi-san's life?
1. Chapter 1

AN: First JR fic! This takes place during Misaki's final year of uni, probably around the time of the most recent Romantica chapter (act 29).

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

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><p>Misaki dropped a carton of eggs that morning. On the way to school, he got on the wrong train and missed his first class. The Devil had given a pop quiz, too, so thanks to that, he was another few negative points closer to a failing grade and an extra year at M University.<p>

In a way, he supposed, he should have known the day would only get worse.

Aikawa opened the door as he was juggling with his keys and ushered him in. She looked excited, her hair windswept like she'd spent all day running up and down the stairs, but the usual stress of keeping Usagi-san to his deadline was completely absent from her demeanor.

Isaka broke off in the middle of an intense conversation with Usagi-san and a man Misaki didn't know to wave at him from the couch. Misaki's heart dropped into his stomach.

"What's going on?"

"It's so exciting!" Aikawa squealed, clasping her hands over her heart. "Misaki-kun, have you ever heard of _Fame_?"

Heard of it? The real question was who _hadn't_. _Fame_ was a reality television show that followed celebrities around during major events; it usually featured popular idols on set, but a recent episode had surprisingly branched out to an artist preparing to do a portrait of the imperial family. He'd thought it funny at the time, a quaint way to spend an hour of the day, but suddenly, looking over at the dark cloud hanging over Usagi-san's head, an ominous feeling swept over him like a chill.

"You can't be serious." Misaki was sure his eyes were bugging out of his head.

"Yes!" Aikawa gave him the thumbs-up. "They want to feature Usami-sensei as he finishes his most recent manuscript!"

Oh, hell, Misaki thought despondently. Aloud, "I'm going to make some tea," was what he heard himself say.

It was difficult to imagine. Misaki felt himself go into automatic, putting the water on the burner, readying the tea leaves, but even as he went through the motions of normalcy, an icky sensation blossomed in his gut. A television program in Usagi-san's house? Surely, Aikawa knew better! She knew exactly what the esteemed 'great lord' went through prior to the completion of each manuscript, the sleepless nights, the ashtrays left overflowing in every room of the house – not to mention, Misaki's own, much more _personal_, torment. Did she really want them to air their dirty laundry on the most popular television program of the year?

Standing behind the loveseat where Usagi-san sat, Aikawa's hands were clasped to her chest, an overwhelmingly sparkling aura hanging around her.

Yes, Misaki realized. Yes, she quite did.

He must have spaced out for a moment, then, because Usagi-san met his eyes and then passed a questioning glance to the water boiling away on the stovetop. The third man, the one seated next to Isaka who remained unfamiliar to Misaki no matter how hard he tried to figure out his identity, took to staring at Misaki with something akin to suspicion.

"Sorry," Misaki squeaked out, fumbling with the glasses and the tea leaves, panic bubbling. This was going to be awful. There would be cameras and lights and people neither of them knew poking their noses into Usagi-san's business and passing judgment on Misaki. And, with Misaki's luck, they'd catch them in any number of compromising positions.

It struck him, then, the thought permeating through the fog of numb unease, that he and Usagi-san were very likely going to be outed to the whole of Japan on a television program. Everyone in his university would see it, of course. Nii-chan and Manami would, too. Misaki knew for a fact that his sister-in-law was an avid watcher of the program. He'd even discussed it with her once during dinner. Nii-chan hadn't been terribly interested in it, but even he'd said that their entire family would watch it together when their schedules all allowed.

Misaki put the drinks on a tray and carried them out to the sitting area, serving the guests and Usagi-san, nodding blankly at their offered thanks. He should make an excuse. He should get out of the house for a bit, maybe go down to the bookstore. When he came back, he was certain Usagi-san would have properly refused the offer, and then they could resume their lives as usual.

"So this is Takahashi-kun?" The third man spoke up, the sound of his voice causing Misaki to start.

"Ah, yes," Misaki bowed his head. "It's nice to meet you…?"

"Iwate Ryunosuke," the man introduce himself. The look on Iwate's face was strange, the twist of his lips somewhere between amused and annoyed. "Isaka-san, perhaps now would be a good time to discuss the contract you proposed?"

Business talk. Misaki figured that was his cue to leave. "Usagi-san, I'm going to the store, so—"

"Nonsense, Takahashi-kun." Iwate patted the empty space on the couch next to him. "Please, have a seat. You'll need to be here for this."

The ball of unease which had been previously resting in his stomach, a faint presence, abruptly flopped. Misaki sat down and looked at Usagi-san, who would not return his gaze. When he looked up at Aikawa, he realized that the sparkle had all but disappeared. For the first time since he'd walked in, she looked uncomfortable.

After a heavy silence, Isaka began with, "Now, chibi-tan, I'm sure you understand how important the reputation of an author is to his sales," and Misaki knew just where the conversation was going to go.

Usagi-san was awfully quiet. He hadn't said anything, not even the usual welcome home. No joking, no teasing. He was just sitting there, staring at something on the wall beyond Misaki's shoulder, his eyebrows dipping down.

"I understand that," Misaki assured. He took one last look at Usagi-san before adding, "But what is it you want me to do?"

"See?" Isaka looked triumphant. He slung an arm over Usagi-san's shoulders, laughing. "I told you he'd understand."

"We're prepared to supply you with alternate accommodations," Iwate broke in smoothly. "You attend M University? There's a rather nice hotel within walking distance that I'm sure you'd—"

"That's really not necessary!" Misaki waved his hands. "I can stay with my brother."

Iwate looked confused. Misaki had the distinct impression that the man had expected him to fight the decision, and really, Misaki wasn't stupid. He didn't want to be on television, especially not under the circumstances _Fame_ proposed.

Really, he was fine with this. Completely fine. What did he care if he had to go stay somewhere else for a few weeks? It might be nice having some time to himself, not having to worry about that idiot jumping him all hours of the day and night.

But Usagi-san still wasn't looking at him.

Isaka and Iwate launched into a conversation about something or other, but Misaki couldn't follow along. He just nodded and tried to look like he wasn't desperate to get Usagi-san's attention.

_If I'm so fine with this, why does my heart feel like this?_

What was he expecting? For Usagi-san to jump to his defense, to demand that Misaki stay? Rather stunned at his own audacity, Misaki realize that yes, he had been expecting just that.

"If that's all you needed me for, I'm going to go now." He really had to get out of there. "I'll go to the store."

No one paid him any mind – _why won't you look at me?_ – so Misaki stood up, grabbed the bag he'd dropped in the entryway, and walked out.

Twenty minutes later found Misaki wandering aimlessly around the city. At some point, he'd taken his cell phone out, had left it in hand. Just in case, he told himself. Usagi-san might want to contact him, never mind that Misaki would have to go home eventually.

He stopped at the crosswalk, leaning against the pole. Home, huh? If it was home, why was he so ready to leave? No, no, not _ready_. Willing. He hadn't put up a fight at all. But neither had Usagi-san, and that, Misaki supposed, had been more painful than he'd expected.

Usagi-san's career was important. More important, if Misaki was honest, than Misaki was. Writing was what kept Usagi-san sane. It was what gave him the life he led, the ability to be free from his family. Misaki, on the other hand, was the piece of Usagi-san's life that could easily ruin the rest of it. Isaka had told him before. Usagi-san's father had echoed the sentiment, and in his own way, Haruhiko had as well. Misaki would only get in the way, would only cause trouble.

"I shouldn't get so worked up," he said aloud. "This isn't a big deal. It's what we've been doing all along."

They'd been a secret, though not necessarily a well-kept one, since the beginning. Misaki _liked_ it that way. This stupid show would just cause them both problems if Misaki hung around, so it was the sensible thing to do, vacating for the duration of the filming. Of course, Usagi-san realized this as well.

The problem here wasn't with Usagi-san, after all. It was with Misaki, with his way of thinking. Hadn't his first thought been how hard it would make his own life? That was terribly selfish, was the exact sort of behavior that made people believe he would cause Usagi-san trouble in the first place.

And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

His resolve strengthened, Misaki turned around. He had to go shopping. Maybe pick up something for dinner, as the desire to cook had all but fled him. He would move through the motions just as well as he ever did, and then he would go home. Usagi-san, surely, would be waiting for him. 

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><p>Feeling more than a little foolish, Misaki pressed his ear to the door before going inside. He couldn't hear anything, so hopefully the little group was gone. He had no desire to see Isaka or Iwate any time soon.<p>

"Usagi-san," Misaki called, setting the grocery bags on the floor so he could take off his coat. "I'm home! I picked up some food for dinner."

"Welcome back." Usagi-san was still sitting in the living area, then. His voice sounded dull.

"That's pretty interesting, that you're going to be on _Fame_!" Misaki stepped into the kitchen, hefting the bags along with him.

Usagi-san took a drag from his cigarette and fixed Misaki with a hard look. "Do you really think so?"

Misaki faltered. "Well, sure? I mean, it's a popular show. It's kind of a big deal, right?"

Another slow drag, followed by a smoky, "I suppose it is."

It felt like he'd just failed some kind of test. Misaki busied himself with putting the food away, grasping for that one thread of normalcy. "So how long is this going to take? I need to call Nii-chan about it, I guess."

"Two weeks of filming," Usagi-san said. "Assuming I meet my deadline."

Misaki snorted. "I'll tell Nii-chan a month, then."

The food was mostly put away, dinner on the table, by the time Usagi-san spoke again. He was still smoking, the third cigarette since Misaki had walked in the door. Suzuki-san was tucked under his arm. He maintained a careful distance from Misaki, opting instead to watch him set the table. "Are you really all right with this?"

Misaki was very pleased how decisive he sounded when he answered: "Of course! It's your job, Usagi-san, so it's important. I'll just take the time to get some school work done. Um," here, he hesitated a bit. "I thought I might make a week's worth of dinners for you before I left. I'll put the instructions in writing, too. Not even you can mess up with written instructions!" Well, knowing Usagi-san, he probably could. The man would probably wind up burning down the apartment without Misaki there to supervise him.

At least it would make for interesting television.

"I'd rather have you with me, you know." Usagi-san's voice had gone quiet, but he might as well have been shouting.

The reaction was instant. The words were a balm for Misaki's heart, soothing the jagged crack that the thought of leaving, of being a burden, had left in it. "I know," he replied, a smile stealing quickly across his face.

Over dinner, Usagi-san told him about the details of the program, all the while running his bare foot along Misaki's ankle. His eyes were dark, the way they got whenever Usagi-san thought of touching him.

In the morning, Misaki would be making plans to leave. Perhaps, he thought, feeling shy just at the idea, he would indulge Usagi-san tonight, if only a bit. His face red, he nudged Usagi-san's foot with his own, peeking at the man through his bangs as he shoveled rice into his mouth.

"Ah, Usagi-san?" Misaki put down his chopsticks. He felt oddly driven, braver than usual. "I was just thinking," _get the words out_, his mind demanded, "maybe I'll leave the dishes for the morning."

Usagi-san looked bemused, but only for a moment. Then, something clicked in his mind, and a slow, predatory smile followed the darkening of his eyes. "Misaki," he was nearly purring. "I had no idea you could be so forward! And here, I'd been wondering if you would even miss me…"

"Don't get the wrong idea!" Misaki jumped up, flustered by his own behavior, and went right to the kitchen. What the hell was he thinking? "I—I was just—"

"Misaki," Usagi-san followed after him, just a step behind. "I love you." His arms went around Misaki's waist, his lips tickling the side of Misaki's neck with feather light touches.

Well, Misaki supposed, his head falling back onto Usagi-san's shoulder of its own accord, that was that, then. He'd never been very good at fighting the tide.

_I'll worry in the morning_, he decided, and covered Usagi-san's wandering hand with one of his own, certain, if only for the moment, that everything was going to be all right.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Part two! Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, or alerted.

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

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><p>Misaki had never seen such a serious expression on his friend's face. Toudou's mouth was a flat line, lips pursed so that they appeared white. His eyes were narrowed, and his forehead wrinkled. "Takahashi," Toudou said gravely. "The Kan's next release was delayed."<p>

"Delayed?" Misaki dropped his literature text on the table. "But I picked up that manuscript myself! No way!"

Toudou took the seat across from Misaki, pulling a snack bar out of his pocket. "The announcement was just posted on the official website." He took a bite of his food, all the while maintaining an air of indignation.

Misaki didn't blame him. He'd been looking forward to the upcoming Friday's magazine release for ages. It was the beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak week.

"Well, that's just shitty," he grumbled, shoving his textbook across the table. "What a week."

"Ah, that's right." Toudou looked curiously at him. "How's staying with your brother?"

"It's good, really, it's fine. It's great seeing my family. Just—"

Toudou nodded. "I know what you mean. Whenever I go visit my parents, my mother's always too overbearing. Once you get used to living alone, it's hard to go back to the way it was before."

"I wasn't alone," Misaki corrected without thinking.

"Have you talked to Usami-san since you left?"

No, actually, he hadn't. Three days had passed since he'd packed his bags and allowed Usagi-san to drop him off at his brother's house, and not once in those three days had Usagi-san so much as sent him a text message. Misaki knew he was probably just busy with the manuscript and the filming, but it still stung.

"Not really," he admitted. "But he's been pretty busy."

"I'm kind of excited. It'll be interesting to see his episode!"

"Episode?" Misaki blinked. He… actually hadn't thought of that. Eventually, whatever the camera crew was filming back at Usagi-san's home was going to be on television. How weird would that be? By then, Misaki would be home again. "Huh."

Toudou laughed. "It'll be weird for you, huh? I still don't get it, though."

"Get what?"

Toudou crammed the rest of the bar into his mouth, crumpling the wrapper into his fist. "Why you couldn't hang around."

Misaki's heart skipped a beat. "I guess I'm just not celebrity material," he said, laughing uneasily.

"Don't worry about it," Toudou said. "I'm not either. I'd be pretty boring to watch on television." He paused. "Unless it was something about The Kan. I'd be all over taking a part of one of The Kan's movies!"

Misaki let out a reverent sigh. "That would be heaven."

"I bet we'd even get to meet sensei," Toudou was sparkling. Then, "Oh, but you already know him!"

"Not really. I just see him for work stuff. Though…" Come to think of it, it wasn't like Ijuuin-sensei wasn't always inviting Misaki around. Of course, with the, er, _recent developments_, Misaki was reluctant to take up any of those offers. But maybe, he thought, eyeing his friend, maybe if Toudou was there… "You know, he invited me over. You, too."

"HE DID WHAT?" Toudou was up on his feet, hands slammed down on the table, before Misaki had time to so much as blink. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ah…" Why hadn't he…? Oh, he remembered. The interviews. Toudou had been interviewing at the time, and Misaki hadn't wanted to distract him. "I'm telling you now?" He smiled beatifically.

Toudou sank back into his chair, eyes sparkling. "Ijuuin-sensei's house must be amazing. It has to be, since it's his!"

Well, yes, Misaki understood that logic. "It looks so expensive! You can really tell just from his house that he's done well. Though it gets pretty messy when he works." Just like with Usagi-san. _Writers_, Misaki thought, exasperated.

"We should go," Toudou insisted. "I—to be in sensei's home—" He couldn't seem to get the words out around his excitement.

"I'll text him and see if he'd mind if we stop by." Misaki pulled out his phone and fired off a quick message. Then he set it down on the table. "I doubt he'll reply any time soon, though. I mean, if something's up with the manuscript, he might be super busy—" A shrill sound cut him off. Misaki and Toudou met eyes, then looked down at the phone in unison.

It was from Ijuuin-sensei.

"Guess he's not too busy," Toudou mused. "What's it say?"

"It says," Misaki began, "please come by whenever you'd like. I'll be home all day." What the hell? Why did he have to respond so fast? That was weird, right? Wasn't it weird?

"You just have one more class, right?"

"Yeah, in about," Misaki glanced at his watch, "fifteen minutes. It'll be over by two."

He and Toudou said goodbye with the agreement to meet at the front gate following the end of Misaki's class. As he left the library, hurrying to the economics building, Misaki had this odd, sinking feeling, like he was doing something wrong. But it wasn't like he was lying to Usagi-san about where he was going, and he wasn't even going there alone. Toudou would be there! And Misaki himself still wasn't entirely convinced that the issue was with Ijuuin-sensei. Maybe he was just thinking strangely. Just because one guy had gone after him in _that way_ didn't mean every guy who said more than two words to him would be the same.

The issue, Misaki figured, was entirely with Usagi-san.

Focusing on economics was impossible. Hell, focusing on anything felt impossible, what with the weird thoughts swirling 'round Misaki's skull at hyper speed, leaving bits and pieces of uncomfortable feelings and aggravating images in their wake. The only thing that snapped him back was the professor mentioning the Usagi Beverage Corporation, which, of course, had nothing to do with the man in question, but the context sent Misaki off into another daydream, an unpleasant one that involved Usagi-san's penchant for drinking to excess when he was alone and miserable. Would he? What if something like that was aired on _Fame_?

No matter what Isaka said, Misaki didn't need to be around to ruin the author's reputation. He had the sneaking suspicion that Usagi-san could manage that one all on his own.

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><p>Misaki texted Toudou as he headed toward the main gate. He only spared a split second to humor the sinking feeling in his stomach when he checked his missed calls for the nth time and didn't see Usagi-san's number. <em>He's just busy<em>, Misaki thought fiercely, shoving away the doubtful voice in the corner of his mind that reminded him of all the other times Usagi-san was busy but still found a spare moment here and there to send a text or call or _anything_.

He was _not_ some lovesick girl who needed reassurance every five seconds. He was an honest-to-god Japanese man, and with all the confidence that entailed!

Kind of. Maybe.

"I'm beginning to think _I'm_ the source of all my stress," Misaki muttered, taking a seat at one of the benches just outside the gate. His phone beeped to alert an incoming message: Toudou, saying he was on his way from the library.

Maybe _he_ should be the one to contact Usagi-san? Knowing the man, he was probably sulking over the fact that Misaki hadn't contacted him at all. They really were a pair of idiots, weren't they?

"Oi, Takahashi!"

"You ready?" Misaki got to his feet. "It's actually pretty close to Usagi-san's place. We can take the train."

"I spent the entire break reading the last Kan volume!" Toudou looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. "I am fully prepared for sensei!"

It struck Misaki just how lucky he was to have a friend like Toudou during the train ride; they babbled on, a constant flow of excitement, and all on a subject that Misaki had never had the opportunity to discuss with anyone before. The Kan was a huge part of his life, and even though he'd tried to get Usagi-san to appreciate it (as well as his brother, and his high school friends… He still had high hopes for Mahiro, though, a few years down the road!), it hadn't ever worked in his favor.

As they approached Ijuuin-sensei's house, Misaki watched with amusement as Toudou's eyes grew rounder and rounder, his mouth slack. He had to drag his friend down the walkway to the front door, snickering. "He's a really easy going guy," Misaki promised. "And he's so cool about his fans! He even has all his fan letters in these really nice binders."

They looked at one another, then to the house, then back to each other, letting out a collective sigh of adoration: "Sensei's the best…"

Ijuuin opened the door before Misaki had a chance to press the key code in. He looked completely put together, finely dressed and with a gentle smile that showcased his handsome face quite nicely. Misaki went red, and some small part of him hated himself for that reaction.

Not that Toudou was any different. He'd gone first white, then red, then his mouth dropped completely opened as he attempted to stammer out a, "Hello, sensei!" with very little success.

"It's good to see you both," Ijuuin said, brushing his hair from his eyes. "Come in, I have some cakes ready."

"He made cakes," Toudou whispered, one hand pressed to his chest and pure bliss bursting across his face. "I think my heart just exploded."

The inside of the house was so neat Misaki had to double-take. He'd _never_ been in Ijuuin-sensei's house when it hadn't looked like the aftermath of an earthquake. The man must have recently cleaned. When he'd picked up the manuscript not five days before, he'd seen hell through the crack in the door, though Ijuuin, most likely embarrassed, hadn't let him inside.

In the kitchen, "I heard about the delay, sensei," Misaki began. "Did something go wrong with the manuscript?"

"Ah, that?" Ijuuin handed them both plates and directed them toward the sitting room. "It was actually an error at the printers. The magazine will be out next Wednesday." He laughed, a bit self-deprecatingly. "Of course, I had so little trouble with this installment that I was just waiting for something else to go wrong."

The man was so sincere, so easy to talk to. He let Toudou's fannish enthusiasm roll off his back like it was nothing, looking over at Misaki every so often with a discrete wink, like they were both in on some great secret. Toudou didn't seem to notice, and Misaki didn't think it was cruel in nature, so he responded in kind with a smile every time – and a deep flush that spread across the bridge of his nose and down the line of his neck, unstoppable.

When Toudou took a moment to breathe, Ijuuin looked over at Misaki. "I heard about Usami-sensei. _Fame _is a big deal. He must be pleased."

Misaki's smile felt a bit less true this time. "It is," he said. "It seems like it's a lot of work, though."

"I look forward to watching it," sensei said, "especially if I'll get to see Takahashi-kun."

"No, no, no!" Misaki held up his hands, flustered. "I'm staying with my brother during the filming. Er—it would be weird, right? I don't think I'm interesting enough to be on a show like that."

Toudou laughed, nudging Misaki with his shoulder. "You and me both."

"I find that hard to believe." Ijuuin was still smiling. Misaki got the odd feeling that the man's face hadn't changed at all since they'd walked in the door. "Takahashi-kun has always been interesting to me."

The moment seemed to go sideways. Toudou squeaked, managing to play it off as a cough. Misaki tried to laugh it off, but when Ijuuin said things like that, he couldn't help but feel something was _off_. He probably shouldn't think like Usagi-san here, that every guy who spoke to him was 'that way', but was it normal to pass comments like that to other guys?

"No way," Misaki said at last. "I'm totally normal. I'd put people to sleep!"

Ijuuin leaned forward, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. "You're very modest, Takahashi-kun. It's one of your charms," he looked at Toudou, "don't you think?"

Oh god, what the hell was going on? Ijuuin's flirting was just in his head. There was nothing weird about it!

The look on Toudou's face, the way his eyebrows were slowly but surely creeping toward his hairline and the embarrassed reddening of his cheeks, dealt a severe blow Misaki's certainty. Rather than continuing that line of thought, Misaki scooped nearly half of one of the delicate looking cakes into his mouth, his cheeks bulging comically.

"Yes," Toudou said flatly, shaking off the awkwardness, "you can just tell by looking at him how charming he is."

Misaki, mouth too full to swallow comfortably, shot Toudou a dark look. Ijuuin-sensei laughed and chucked a napkin at him, and all at once, the atmosphere of the room calmed.

_It's all in my head_, Misaki reassured himself. The important thing was remembering that.

* * *

><p>The sun was already dropping down behind the line of buildings that framed the horizon by the time they left Ijuuin-sensei's house. Toudou suggested they grab some dinner and head back to his place to catch The Kan on television.<p>

Misaki agreed on the condition that Toudou paid for the beer.

"He was a lot different than I expected," Toudou said, dropping the twelve pack down on the table. His apartment was small, a studio that was little more than a room with a third belonging to the kitchen and the rest some mash-up of the living area and Toudou's bedroom. The table was low and barely big enough for two people.

"That's what I thought, too, the first time I met him." Misaki ripped open the box and handed Toudou a can, then grabbed one for himself, wasting no time in popping the top and taking a swig. He kind of wanted to ask Toudou what he _really _thought – not just of Ijuuin as the author of their most important series, but also as a person. Did he think there was something… a little strange about him? Did Toudou feel the same sense of unease that Misaki had, however brief a time it lasted?

But he couldn't. He didn't want to, because asking a question like that suggested that Misaki would have to explain the rest of it: Usagi-san, the last time he'd spoken with Ijuuin-sensei…

It was one big mess, and like hell did Misaki want to weigh his mind down with all of _that_.

Instead, he neglected his dinner in favor of his drink, content with the idea of spending his night doing nothing at all.

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><p>"Something wrong, Usami-sensei?" Aikawa handed him a mug of coffee, pausing just long enough to flash a coy smile at the camera.<p>

"Misaki," he said, lowering his voice. Aikawa caught the name and leaned close, wary of how well the cameras could pick up sound. "He hasn't contacted me since he left. And he's not answering his phone."

Aikawa sighed, standing straight again. "He's just busy, I'm sure, sensei."

"I'm calling his brother," Akihiko declared.

"You've not gotten much done today…"

"Of course not." He'd not gotten much done _period_. It was like Misaki had walked out the door, Akihiko's ability to write in hand. "I'll be on the balcony."

Another sigh, but Aikawa didn't seem to have the drive to stop him. "Ten minutes, all right?"

Akihiko grunted his reply and stepped out into the cool night air, sliding the glass doors shut behind him. First, a cigarette – it felt quite like he'd smoked himself raw already, but that didn't mean anything as far as Akihiko was concerned. He lit up, took a drag, then went straight for his cell phone. It rang a few times, then a voice picked up, panting like the speaker had run to get the call: "Usagi-san?"

"Takahiro, good evening." A slow exhale. "Is Misaki there?"

"Misaki?" Takahiro echoed, surprised. "No, he's out for the night. Did you try his cell phone?"

Out? Out _where_? With who? Akihiko ashed his cigarette so hard it broke in half. "He's not answering."

"Not answering?" Takahiro didn't sound concerned. "Well, he's probably just having fun. He and a friend were going to visit that guy, you know."

"That—that guy?" No, actually, he _didn't _know. "What guy?"

"The one that does that manga he's so obsessed over," Takahiro said, exasperated. "I mean, I'm glad Misaki found a friend with the same interest, but I really just don't see the appeal. It seems sort of… well, it reads almost like a shoujo manga! Manami agrees," he finished, as though having his wife's opinion on his side made whatever he believed a fact.

But Akihiko stopped listening right after he mentioned _that manga_. Misaki went to see that bastard mangaka?

_But with a friend_, he reiterated. Misaki wouldn't have gone alone.

"Thank you, Takahiro," he said. "I was just curious."

"Sure, anytime. Want me to tell him you called?"

Akihiko thought about that for a moment. Then, "No," he said slowly. "No, I wouldn't worry over it."

They said their goodbyes, and Akihiko hung up and tucked his phone into his pocket – only to pull it right back out, and type in a single line: _I'm coming to find you_. He scrolled for Misaki's number and sent it off, jamming the SEND button with his thumb so hard the joint ached.

Looking over his shoulder, Akihiko watched the camera crew interact with Aikawa. There were just so damn many of them, crawling all over the house and interfering with his work in the worst possible way.

Nothing to it. He had plenty of experience in escaping persistent people. This would be no different.

* * *

><p>Misaki woke up on Toudou's floor to the sound of vomiting. It wasn't the best way to greet the morning. He was just pulling himself to a sitting position when Toudou stumbled out of the bathroom, face pale and drawn.<p>

"Never," he groaned, "we are _never_ drinking again!"

"Why does this seem so familiar?" Misaki's voice sounded raw, and the unpleasant taste in his mouth, now that he was aware of it, made _him_want to puke.

"I have class in an hour," Toudou whimpered, collapsing into a heap on his futon. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

"Oh hell, classes. What day is it?" Misaki scrambled for his phone, unlocking the key pad. But before he could bring up the calendar, an alert popped up: fourteen unread messages. Fourteen? Who in the world would—

They were all from Usagi-san.

Misaki's stomach turned upside down. Puking was _definitely_ in his future. It looked like Usagi-san had started trying to contact him about an hour after they'd started drinking. His phone was set on vibrate, so he hadn't noticed it. "Oh, man," he mumbled, scrolling through the messages. The first few had seemed pretty relaxed, but as they went on, Usagi-san sounded more and more panicked. He _always_ overreacted, so Misaki wasn't too surprised, but the last message made his blood run cold: _I'm coming to find you_, it said. Nothing else. The time was marked as 12:02 AM.

Dropping the phone, Misaki rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to fight off the pounding in his skull and the churning in his gut. On the one hand, Usagi-san was likely on a rampage, running through the city on some mad escape dash from the camera crew as he searched frantically. On the other, Misaki was hung over.

With a deep, resigned sigh, Misaki picked up his phone again, scrolling for Usagi-san's number.

No matter what he did at this point, he couldn't help the feeling that he was already in deep shit.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you again to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted, etc., the last chapter! It's nice to see, whether it's just the hit count going up or a review. As for those of you reviewed, I, er, have no idea how to work the review-reply thing. I'm kind of challenged with technology... But rest assured, I am very thankful!

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

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><p>The insistent knocking on the door coincided with Toudou's mad juggling to both put on his shoes and coat at the same time. Misaki, having finally worked up the will to move, had rolled himself onto Toudou's bed, which, according to his friend, served as the couch as well.<p>

Toudou still looked pale, but he insisted he'd be fine once he got to school. "I'll grab the door," he called to Misaki, who groaned and rolled himself in the bedding in response. "Hello, Usami-san!"

Misaki peeked out from his safe haven as Usagi-san sidestepped Toudou into the apartment. He listened to Toudou say something about Usagi-san making himself comfortable, then he turned and called out a last goodbye.

"Gnngh," Misaki offered, flopping a hand out of the bed to wave. The door closed. He and Usagi-san were alone. At that point, he just closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Usagi-san kicking off his shoes, the soft pat of socked feet across the wooded floor.

"You scared the hell out of me." Usagi-san sat down on the edge of the mattress. It was low to the ground, no bed frame to speak of, so his knees were crooked up in a comical way, exaggerating the length of his legs.

"…sorry." Did he need to apologize? It was sort of an automatic reaction. Usagi-san _always _overreacted, and Misaki got the feeling that apologizing in the face of said overreactions was really only encouraging them to continue. "Aren't you supposed to be working, though?" He pushed the covers out of the way so he could sit up and was hit with a wave of nausea. "Guh…"

Usagi-san seemed to consider that for a moment, sitting back and adopting a haughty, pensive expression. Then: "I escaped," he announced grandly. "My Misaki might have been in trouble."

"Escaped," Misaki repeated flatly. "Oh, of course. That sounds _reasonable_."

Usagi-san pulled his cigarettes out of his breast pocket and lit up. "I thought so," he offered agreeably. "Especially after I spoke to Takahiro."

To his brother? What could he have possibly said that might have led Usagi-san to think that—

Oh.

_Oh._

"What did Nii-chan say?" Misaki asked warily, pulling the sheets up to his neck like a shield. His brother must have mentioned Misaki's visit with Ijuuin. He _knew _he shouldn't have said anything about it when he told his brother he'd be staying with a friend!

"He mentioned you and a friend visiting that mangaka." Usagi-san said it so casually, like it didn't bother him at all, but his eyes were slowly growing dark, and the hand grasping his cigarette was too tense to be anything but irritated.

"Toudou wanted to meet him," Misaki said. "I didn't go alone, you know." Did he really have any reason to explain himself? He hadn't done anything wrong.

Though he certainly wasn't going to mention that awkward conversation about his supposed "charms."

Another slow exhale. "I know." Usagi-san's face was drawn, and it struck Misaki that the man looked like he hadn't been sleeping well. Or, knowing Usagi-san, hadn't been sleeping at _all_.

The conversation died. Misaki tried to think of something to say beyond _are we having a fight?_but for the life of him, the only thing he could manage to think of was how many steps it would take to get to the bathroom lest he started projectile vomiting. Somehow, he didn't think that would fix the situation.

But what was there to fix? It was just Usagi-san being, well, _Usagi-san_. There was no real right or wrong, just a muddle of miscommunications and hurt feelings that didn't make a whole lot of sense to begin with.

"We weren't there long," Misaki's mouth, though, didn't seem to get that he'd done nothing wrong. It persisted in feeding Usagi-san excuses, despite how dry his lips and tongue felt, despite the cotton in his head and the sour churning in his gut. "And we came back, but then we were drinking, so I didn't notice the phone—"

Honestly, he might have continued on forever had Usagi-san not twisted around and put his hand over Misaki's mouth. It was cool, and immediately comforting. Misaki found that he was lying back without thinking, his eyes drooping.

"I'll get you some water," Usagi-san offered after a moment. The apartment was so small that Misaki didn't even have to move in order to keep an eye on the errant author.

Toudou's dishware was limited, to say the least. The counter was lined with beer cans, and Misaki watched with detached amusement as Usagi-san shoved the whole lot of them into the sink, eyeing the row of three chipped mugs sitting behind the mess with a disdain fit for the name Usami. Finally, he seemed satisfied with whatever he'd been looking for, and picked the cleanest of the three, running it under the tap water for a few moments before dumping it and filling it up again, testing it to make certain the water wasn't too cold.

"Here," he said, offering Misaki the mug and settling down onto the floor next to the bed. "You look terrible."

Was that an apology? No, maybe not an apology, just an acknowledgement of the situation as unimportant?

_Why the hell am I even still thinking about this? He obviously isn't worried!_ Misaki took a long gulp, leaned back, then proceeded to down the rest of the mug. "So good," he groaned. "More?"

Usagi-san took the mug. "No, sleep. You'll just make yourself sick."

"I already did that," Misaki pointed out, but rolled over and rested on his side anyway, pulling the sheets over his head just enough that only his eyes and up was still visible.

"I got nothing done," Usagi-san informed him. "You stole my considerable talent."

"…what?"

"Ah, this will do nicely." From the floor, Usagi-san grabbed several sheets of paper. Most of them had things already scribbled on the back, or were advertisements Toudou had picked up over the week. Usagi-san stacked them neatly on the low table, looking, finally, as pleased as he usually did.

Then he pulled out a very familiar pen. Misaki recognized it right off the bat. The engraving had worn from use, but otherwise, it still looked as pristine as it had when Misaki handed it to Usagi-san several Christmases before.

Writing off the sudden burn spreading over his face as the tail end of a massive hangover, Misaki let his eyes drift shut to the image of Usagi-san scribbling away, humming cheerily.

* * *

><p>Misaki's eyes were open for several minutes before he was really and truly awake again. Usagi-san was still there, having somehow procured a notebook in the time Misaki had been asleep. Or perhaps not a notebook – he was writing in a The Kan journal. Toudou was going to go ballistic, he thought vaguely.<p>

Usagi-san noticed him quickly. "Feeling better?"

Pausing a moment to take inventory, Misaki figured that yes, he was. His mouth was ungodly amounts of dry, but his stomach had settled for the most part, and the throbbing at his temples had faded to a dull, barely there ache. "Yeah." He sat up, working his mouth around the gummy, cotton-feel and wrinkled his nose.

He needed water. He shuffled out of the bed, but the moment he climbed to his feet, his bladder protested loudly that perhaps it deserved a bit of attention, _thank you ever so much_.

Bathroom, Misaki thought. _Then_ water.

Usagi-san was really on the ball. He was outside the bathroom when Misaki walked out, mug in hand and a grin on his face. Anything more than a small smile really just looked obscene when it came to Usagi-san, so Misaki was understandably concerned, and made it a point to shuffle away with his back to the wall and his eyes narrowed. When he sat back down on the bed, Usagi-san followed suit.

"Thank you," Misaki said at last. "But are you even supposed to be here?" What time was it, anyway? "Toudou's classes last until—"

"He came by, actually," Usagi-san informed him. "While you were still out. He's at his part-time job right now." The grin became a flat-out leer. "So considerate of him."

There was a hand on his thigh. Misaki looked down at it, despairing, before shoving Usagi-san and scooting away. "No. Just—_no_."

"Poor Misaki," Usagi-san cooed, sliding within grabby-handed range with ease and nuzzling Misaki's neck. "You were so terribly hungover! But I was here to take care of you. I rather think that deserves a reward."

"There was no 'taking care'," Misaki said absently, more intent on worming his way out of the author's grasp than actually participating in his unique brand of inanity.

"I brought you water," Usagi-san insisted. "I fled the perilous grasps of the Japanese entertainment industry for you!"

"No," Misaki insisted right back. "You found an excuse to slack off and ran for it."

But no amount of arguing was going to change the fact that Usagi-san's hands were creeping beneath the waistband of his shorts or the fact that he was _kind of being groped in Toudou's bed_.

None of it boded well.

"Usagi-san, seriously!" Misaki squirmed harder, knowing that, realistically, he was only egging Usagi-san on, but his options were limited here! "This is Toudou's bed! Come on, we can't—not here!"

"This is so inspiring," Usagi-san murmured against Misaki's neck.

"Absolutely not!" Misaki howled. "We are not having sex in Toudou's bed!"

The mouth at his neck worked that sensitive strip of skin that never failed to send goosebumps flaring down Misaki's arms. He found his resolve wavering, and he tried to stop himself, he really did, but then Usagi-san was palming him through his boxers, and Misaki could _feel_ how hard the man was every time their bodies shifted just so.

It wasn't fair. It really just wasn't fair how every little thing Usagi-san did was so captivating, could throw him over the edge so easily only to reel him back in the same damn second. Misaki couldn't be expected to resist, he justified to himself, and settled on working his fists into a clawing grip at Usagi-san's shoulders.

When Usagi-san husked his name in that toe-curling rumble, Misaki didn't even bother keeping up with the pretense of trying to reason with himself. He just let his eyes slide shut under the onslaught of pleasure and _felt_.

* * *

><p>"Oh what the hell," Misaki groaned some time later, burying his face in his hands. "We had <em>sex<em> on Toudou's bed. I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO LOOK HIM IN THE EYE AGAIN."

Usagi-san was cramped between Misaki and the wall, spread out naked on top of the sheets, smoking idly and watching the smoke spiral up with a contented smile. "We did," he confirmed. "And you won't."

Somehow, the entire day had gotten away from Misaki. It was almost three in the afternoon, and all he'd done was—well, was _nothing he wanted to think about_, and Toudou would be home in not too long! Was an hour and a half enough to air the musty scent lingering? Surely, it wasn't nearly long enough to wash the sheets.

"This is terrible," Misaki informed the room at large.

"The bed _is_ rather small." Usagi-san did a half-baked impersonation of a worm, trying to writhe but mostly just succeeding in looking like he was suffering from a minor seizure. "Next time, you should just stay home." And then, as though only just remembering _how _the situation had come to be, Usagi-san's expression sobered. He rolled onto his side and burrowed his face into Misaki's hair, inhaling deeply. "You should just come home."

"I can't. There's the filming, remember?" Misaki felt hollow as he said it.

"I don't want to do it. I'll just tell them—"

"Aiwaka will actually, really kill you this time if you do," Misaki warned. "And Isaka will help her hide the body. Usagi-san, this is a _big_ deal! Even Nii-chan knows about _Fame_, and he still thinks the television cuts off at night!"

"Then you could come—"

"I can't," and now, the fight began to slip from Misaki's mind. Usagi-san was making _that_ face, the one that made Misaki feel like he'd just kicked a puppy. "I'm sorry. You know what Iwate-san said, and he's right—sort of. I don't even want to be on TV…" He trailed off with a grumble, knowing he was edging into dangerous territory.

"I can't get anything done without you." Usagi-san sighed and ashed his cigarette. The clump fell right onto the sheets. Misaki wanted to scream.

"That's no different from usual. Look, it's only a few weeks. We can… we can meet!" That's right! Who said they couldn't? "Maybe—maybe for dinner every other night?" Was that being too intrusive? Misaki didn't know the first thing about how that type of show was filmed.

"And we could go to a hotel after," Usagi-san added, warming up to the idea. "I know of an excellent hotel in London—"

"No hotel," Misaki said firmly. Then, in case Usagi-san had missed the point: "And _no_ leaving the country!"

"It's just," a melodramatic sigh, "I run out of Misaki so fast!"

"Oh, now you're just whining."

A humming noise broke through the conversation before Usagi-san could continue irritating him. Thankful for the interruption, Misaki leaned over the bed, searching for the source: it was his phone. Apparently, he'd never switched it off vibrate.

He unlocked the keypad, expecting it to be Toudou, or maybe his brother, but the number didn't belong to either of them. The blood froze in his veins as Misaki accepted the call: "H-hello, Aikawa-san," he squeaked. It was a clear admission of guilt.

"WHERE IS HE?" The force of her voice caused Misaki to jolt away from the phone. As if on reflex, Usagi-san dove off the bed and hit the floor. "SENSEI?" She was still shrieking. "GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE, YOU BASTARD! I WON'T LET YOU RUIN THI—"

The line died.

"Sometimes, she gets overexcited and hangs up with her chin," Usagi-san explained, getting to his feet. "She'll call back." He started rooting through the pile of clothes on the floor, separating his from Misaki's.

"You'd better go." The phone began to buzz again, but Misaki couldn't bring himself to answer it. Instead, he declined the call and sent a text saying that Usagi-san would return shortly.

"I would, but I haven't eaten, so I was just thinking about this restaurant—"

"Absolutely not! Aikawa will kill us both!"

"You love me, don't you? You ought to be willing to sacrifice yourself for my honor."

Where the hell he was pulling that from, Misaki couldn't begin to imagine. Rather than humoring the man, he just gave him a flat stare. "I like you tolerably well, but don't get ahead of yourself."

"So cruel."

"Just put your pants on and _leave_."

It took another ten minutes to convince the man that yes, Misaki was going to be fine; no, he didn't need any nursing; and _definitely _no way, no how was he willing to flee the country with Usagi-san. He sent the author on his way with the promise to meet up again as soon as Aikawa would allow and gave himself a few beats of silence after the door closed before he began to panic.

Toudou would be home within the hour. There was no way he could clean the sheets before then.

Losing himself in a mental diatribe against that _bastard Usagi-san_, Misaki opened all the windows and double – and triple – checked the sheets for any, ah, _evidence_.

Aside from the bed, the apartment was quite a bit neater than when Misaki had arrived. Usagi-san had used most of the papers that had been littering the floor. By the time the man left, he had quite the stack of handwritten fiction tucked under his arm. Misaki hoped that might appease Aiwaka's rage a bit, but he wasn't holding his breath.

For the first time since he'd set foot out of Usagi-san's condo, he was quite thankful not to be around.

Toudou opened the door at exactly half past four, and Misaki barely spent the time to squeak out a goodbye and _I'llcallyoulater!_ before fleeing the apartment. He hadn't even remembered to close the windows, he realized as he dashed into the elevator.

No sense in worrying about that _now_.

He sent off a message to his brother saying he was on his way back and then double checked his phone. He'd missed only one class, a mid-morning anthropology elective that he didn't really like all that much, anyway. The professor usually seemed too concerned about obscure religious groups in Africa than anything relevant to him.

Within seconds of messaging him, his brother replied, telling him that he was working late, but Manami would have dinner ready as usual. He closed out of the message, only to immediately receive a second. That one was from Usagi-san, informing Misaki that Aikawa agreed to let him out of his cage for a date on Friday, so long as Usagi-san got a certain amount of work done.

The cage comment threw Misaki, as he wouldn't put it entirely past the woman to lock her wayward author up.

"A date, huh?" The rush of warmth in his chest almost made him trip on the sidewalk, it was so sudden, so dizzying. He'd never paid much mind to their date nights before – had, in fact, tried to avoid them on more than one occasion. And he'd only just seen Usagi-san!

As stupid as it seemed, Misaki couldn't wrap his head around just how much he wanted to see Usagi-san, not to mention how often. It was as though, with this forced distance between them, despite still being within minutes of one another, Misaki missed the man to a painful degree. If this was how bad it felt _now_, what would he do if Usagi-san actually did go overseas? Authors did that sort of thing, right? Went on tours? Usagi-san hadn't in the years they'd known each other, but that didn't automatically rule out the possibility. What would he do then? He couldn't very well drop his life and follow Usagi-san around the world!

"This is stupid," Misaki told himself. He'd keep saying it as many times as he needed to, as many times as it took, because this, dwelling on these weird what-ifs, wasn't going to fix a damn thing. It just made his heart hurt and his eyes burn, made him want to turn right around and run to Usagi-san's condo and demand his home back.

But then, he just felt selfish. He was running circles around himself, and it was alternating between making him maudlin and then pissing him off.

His emotional storm was interrupted, however, by another buzz – a message. Misaki looked at the screen: it was Toudou. The message merely read, _Do you know what happened to my Kan stationary? It was on the table._

Misaki very nearly dropped his phone as he whirled around and screamed incoherently in the general direction of Usagi-san's condo.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: *covers face* Wow, thank you guys so much for the awesome reviews! My face hasn't been that red in a while. And the same to everyone reading. I'm glad you're enjoying the fic so far!

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

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><p>Mahiro got into Misaki's book bag at some point during the night. The toddler had taken to waking up at ungodly hours of the night and slipping out of his room for an impromptu exploration of the house. No matter what Manami and Takahiro did, Mahiro could not be stopped. His escape skills were just as impressive as Usagi-san's – not to mention his penchant for creating disaster.<p>

"We'll pay to replace them," Manami promised frantically the next morning, upon discovering the crayon scribbles throughout all but one of Misaki's textbooks.

Part of Misaki wanted to refuse the offer on the grounds that by the time Usagi-san heard what happened, the man would pay not only for the replacements, but likely buy the newest editions available, but Manami looked so wretched about the whole thing that he couldn't help but agree. "It's really okay," he promised.

"He does that sometimes," she fretted, watching the toddler shriek with delight at something on the television.

"Misaki did things like, too." Takahiro looked distinctly amused. "Dad was never happy with the decorations all over his paperwork."

Karmic retribution be damned, it still didn't change the fact that Misaki was due for literature in just under an hour with no textbook. "Thanks, Nii-chan," he said flatly.

Takahiro's laugh followed him all the way out the door.

Despite the fact that he'd done nothing but rest once he got back to his brother's house the afternoon previous, Misaki was absolutely exhausted. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to turn back toward the house, run inside, and bury himself in bed. How was it that he felt worse after a night's rest than better?

And to top it all off, Usagi-san had spent most of the night texting him nonstop. Misaki finally just turned his phone on silent around ten, as no amount of begging would get the man to stop playing with his phone and just do his damn job. He'd fallen asleep to vague, half-formed thoughts of a television special consisting of nothing but varying clips of Usagi-san using his cell phone and taking smoke breaks. Surely, the man had done _something _productive since leaving Toudou's apartment?

Misaki pulled his phone out of his pocket as he made his way to the train station, setting it on vibrate and scrolling idly through the seemingly endless number of messages from Usagi-san. They'd cut off somewhere around three in the morning. The last six said nothing but _I love you_. Just _reading _them made Misaki's face burn.

No sooner had he put the phone back in his pocket than a sudden vibration jolted his side, catching him off guard and sending him careening violently to the left. "What…?"

Of course, it was Usagi-san. What the hell the man was doing up before eight in the morning, Misaki didn't know, but he was resigned to the fact that Usagi-san seemed to have developed some type of freaky psychic power that let him know exactly what Misaki was doing, and when.

_Good morning_, the message said. Misaki tried to type back a reply, but he wasn't quick enough. Usagi-san sent another message: _Meet me for lunch_.

Misaki scoffed and quickly typed back: _Can't. Classes. Do your work._

He was on the train and only three minutes away from the station nearest the university before Usagi-san replied. If such a thing could be called a reply: it was a picture of Suzuki-san sitting in the kitchen with an empty plate in front of him.

"The hell?" Misaki muttered. Was that supposed to be symbolic of something? Maybe it was an author thing, and maybe someone just as insane as Usagi-san would understand, but it rated about at the same level as any other psychobabble in Misaki's mind.

Or maybe, he thought, it was an extremely sleep-deprived Usagi-san's way of saying he hadn't eaten yet?

Misaki abruptly shoved his phone into his pocket when he realized he was attempting to analyze the idiot. It was about a thousand years too early for something like that. Totally impossible!

He ignored the next three messages, gritting his teeth every time his phone vibrated. For three days, Usagi-san sent him _nothing_, and suddenly he was pestering Misaki nonstop? While it occurred to him that this was the sort of behavior he'd expected in the first place, Misaki couldn't help but wonder why _now_? Some pitiful part of him figured Usagi-san hadn't really thought of Misaki at all, at least not until he'd gotten bored and needed an excuse to escape. Did Usagi-san actually miss him?

Ashamed at the direction of his thoughts, Misaki reminded himself that Usagi-san had _of course_ missed him. The author was a busy man, and Aikawa had probably been a ruthlessly efficient taskmaster in the beginning. Maybe _she_ was the one who was slacking, if the amount of time Usagi-san had access to his phone was any indication. Then again, it wasn't really possible to make an episode of _Fame_ out of a man sitting at his computer for several weeks on end. The other specials had followed the featured celebrities into their personal lives. Had those initial days been just a tactic to ease Usagi-san into acting more like himself, lure him into a false sense of security, and then catch him in a scandalous moment?

"And now I'm coming up with _conspiracy theories_?" Sometimes, Misaki really wondered what was wrong with his head.

* * *

><p>Toudou caught up with him during Misaki's lunch break. The student cafeteria was large, but Misaki noticed him right off the bat: poised in the far right entrance, one hand held dramatically over his eyes as he scouted the crowded tables for a familiar face. The moment he spotted Misaki, Toudou made a beeline toward him.<p>

"So I left my phone at home during class yesterday," Toudou began. He sat down in the empty seat across from Misaki and pulled out another snack bar.

"You need to eat real food," Misaki said, shaking his head ruefully. "Here," he slid his bento across the table. "I'm full anyway."

Toudou smiled brightly. "Thanks! Anyway, like I was saying, I left it at home."

"…is that so?" Misaki didn't quite understand what Toudou's point was, but he figured he should at least look interested. "Did you miss a call or something?"

"No. It's just…" He pulled out his phone and handed it to Misaki over the table. "Here, you look."

"All right." Misaki grabbed it, took one look at the screen – and promptly dropped his forehead, hard, against the table. "Oh my god."

"That's kind of what I said," Toudou supplied helpfully, "only I did think it was pretty funny."

At some point during the day before, Usagi-san had gotten hold of Toudou's phone and changed the background to a picture of Misaki drooling in his sleep. "That idiot," Misaki groaned. How could he?

"And he put his number in there, too," Toudou added. "I know, because he sent me like five million messages this morning. He says you should call him." Then he frowned. "He also told me he'd replace my Kan stationary and suggested I buy a bigger apartment."

The strangest thing, beyond Usagi-san's own rather, er, _unique_ way of intruding into Misaki's life, was the fact that Toudou only seemed bothered by the fact that Usagi-san stole his stationary. He didn't look put out by the weird picture (Misaki was pretty sure he was about to melt, his face felt so hot), didn't seem bothered at all by Usagi-san texting him.

"I'm really sorry," Misaki said miserably. "He does things like this sometimes. I'll definitely scold him!"

"It's okay," Toudou laughed. "Just…" The smile slipped off his face, replaced by something hesitant and curious. "_Why_ does he do it? I mean, I did think it was kind of weird that he followed us to the autograph session in Fukuoka, but then he gave me those plane tickets so I didn't care. I guess it just seems odd, is all."

"I—ah—that is…" What was he supposed to say? Toudou wasn't accusing him of anything, and he didn't look angry. Misaki, in his place, would have _definitely_ been angry. Or maybe just confused.

Very, _very _confused.

For a split second, the briefest of moments, Misaki wanted to tell Toudou. He wanted to tell him everything. He felt for the first time since he could remember the deepest desire for someone to confide in.

But he _couldn't_. The words stuck in his throat, held in a firm grip by that old fear: Toudou would reject him, would tell every damn person in the university. From there, it would be only a matter of time before _everyone_ knew, even Nii-chan, and then the papers would get hold of it, and Usagi-san's career would be completely ruined, and _everything would be his fault_, just like Usagi-chichi said.

"He's like an older brother," Misaki found himself saying, the words falling flat even to his own ears. "He didn't have much of a family himself, so he's—overprotective."

Toudou got the strangest look on his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by a familiar grin. "So I was thinking about the cliffhanger in the last release of The Kan…"

Just like that? He just—dropped it? Misaki had the distinct impression that Toudou didn't buy a single word of it, but he wasn't pressing the matter either. Just moving on.

Misaki shook free of the haze clinging to his mind, weighing him down, and joined in on the cheerful speculation. If Toudou wasn't going to keep asking, then he wasn't going to bother with it.

It was, he figured, the sign of a good friend.

* * *

><p>By Thursday, Misaki was more than ready for the weekend. Classes had dragged by at a maddeningly slow pace. Usagi-san had continued harassing him via text and, occasionally, calling on a bemused Toudou's aide in convincing Misaki to actually respond. Toudou had been giving him increasingly questioning looks, and honestly, Misaki had to wonder just how much longer he had before the bomb dropped.<p>

"Misaki-kun, are you sure you don't mind cooking?" Manami stood in the doorway to the kitchen, twisting the hem of her blouse. She looked oddly young like that, the image giving Misaki the false impression of actually being the older brother-in-law.

"It's fine. I'm used to cooking for Usagi-san every night, so I kind of miss it."

"Does it bother you?" she asked.

Misaki didn't look up from the vegetables he was chopping, eyeing them to measure out the perfect width. "I told you, it's fine. I like to cook."

"I meant cooking for Usami-san," she corrected gently. "He treats you well?"

At that, Misaki looked up. "Of course," he said, surprised. "He treats me like royalty. It can get kind of annoying." _That _was the understatement of the century. If Misaki pointed to any country on the map and said, "I want this," he was pretty sure Usagi-san would run with it. The man would go to any lengths to satisfy Misaki, even when Misaki didn't want or need anything at all.

Manami broke into a wide smile. "You deserve to be treated so well," she said fondly. "I know you took good care of Takahiro before I met him. He'd be lost without you."

"Ah, well, I don't know about that." Misaki didn't know where Manami was pulling this gushing affection from. It made him both terribly nervous and terribly embarrassed. "I'm sure he'd have been fine on his own! He'd have gone to school and made a lot of money, I bet."

"I doubt it. He's not good by himself, you know," Manami whispered the tail end of the comment, like she was sharing some big secret. "I'm sure you know what I mean."

Did he ever. "He gets lost all the time," Misaki laughed. "Does he still?"

"I bought him a phone with GPS on his last birthday! I was going to give it to him at the restaurant we picked, but he got lost on the way and took the wrong train. He's _hopeless_."

Had he ever spoken so candidly with Manami? Misaki couldn't recall. He hadn't known her much at all before she married his brother, and they hadn't really had much of a chance to talk since. She had such a comforting air about her, though, some quality that evoked maternal warmth. Misaki found himself shaking off the weight of the week with ease the more they spoke.

She helped him with dinner, playing assistant and looking rather amused about it. Takahiro was working late again, so they were in the middle of preparing a plate for him to save for later when Mahiro started shouting, "Unagi!" at the television, over and over, as loudly as he could.

"Unagi?" The word struck a chord in Misaki's memory.

Manami was on her tiptoes, staring out into the living room at the television screen. "Isn't that Usami-san?"

They both nearly collided into one another in their mad dash from the kitchen. Mahiro was jumping up and down excitedly, pointing at the television.

It was, indeed, Usagi-san: a commercial for _Fame_, actually. The announcer was speaking rapidly about the 'secret life of the esteemed award-winning author, Usami Akihiko' to a backdrop of various images of the man at ceremonies and book signings.

"My, this is quite a big deal, isn't it?" Manami looked impressed.

"And what," the announcer continued, "will be revealed about the secretive author's life? Perhaps… a love interest?"

Now, Misaki considered himself made of stern stuff. Living with Usagi-san generally gave him an edge, made things that would freak the greater portion of the population out seem like every day events to him. But the end of the commercial, what with its talk of love interests and floating hearts, sent a tremor running down his spine.

It probably didn't help that the final frame was an image of _his bedroom_.

_Don't panic_, he told himself. _It's nothing. It's absolutely nothing. It's just a teaser to get people to watch. No one who knows Usagi-san will believe it!_

Next to him, Manami said, "I didn't realize he was seeing anyone! Do you know anything about it, Misaki-kun?"

"Eh, heh, me? No way! What could I possibly know?" He laughed shrilly. "Oh, I think I left the oven on!" He fled the room at top speed, but not before he heard Manami mutter, "But we didn't use the oven…"

It was official. He was totally and completely fucked.

* * *

><p>He begged out of dinner, saying he had a lot of class work to attend to, and locked himself in his room for the night. It occurred to him that he was just acting suspicious, but the moment he thought it, some more hysterical part of him started shrieking about everyone knowing everything about him and Usagi-san, and <em>he<em> wasn't the suspicious one here!

"I have to call him." Misaki dug through his bag for his phone, ignoring the messages on the screen and opting to scroll for Usagi-san's number and press the call button. "Come on, come on, pick up!"

It rang and rang. Misaki started cursing toward the end, certain that Usagi-san wouldn't answer, so of course the man picked up right as he started chanting, "Shit, shit, shit—"

"…hello?"

"Ah, Usagi-san!" Misaki cringed. "Er, sorry about that."

"It's fine." He heard Usagi-san inhale deeply. The man must be on a smoke break, Misaki figured.

"Look, we need to talk. Did you see the—"

"We do!" Usagi-san coughed, and in the background, Misaki could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. "Aikawa gave me permission to escape tomorrow."

"That's not what I— wait, she actually said that?"

"Yes." Misaki could practically hear the man's smug grin.

"But when the hell have you been working?" he demanded. "All you've been doing is sending me messages! NOT TO MENTION TOUDOU."

Usagi-san sniffed delicately. "I needed a secondary method of contact."

"You could call Nii-chan's house," Misaki said, exasperated. "Which, in case you've forgotten, _is where I'm staying_."

He almost wanted to take it back the second he said it. It was too easy to imagine Usagi-san calling the house at all hours of the night and keeping them awake. He doubted his brother or Manami would appreciate it.

"I wouldn't want to trouble anyone."

"Then stop sending Toudou messages during class. You know, he got kicked out of one of his lectures because his phone went off!"

"In any case," Usagi-san continued airily, "I'll be picking you up from class tomorrow. Tell Takahiro you'll be with a friend for the night."

For the night? Misaki's stomach flopped, and a fierce red burned its trail down his neck. "We're going to a hotel?" he asked. He pretended his voice didn't crack in the middle of _hotel_.

"Something like that," Usagi-san purred.

Misaki coughed loudly. "ANYWAY. That's not what I was going to talk to you about! Did you see it?"

There was a pause, an inhale. Usagi-san was lighting another cigarette. Misaki had to stomp down the instinctual urge to scold him for smoking so much. "See what?"

"The commercial! Did you see it?"

"Ah, that's right, that was airing today, wasn't it?" Usagi-san made a dismissive sound. "I'll watch it online later."

"That's not the point." Misaki wanted to slam his head against the wall. "It talked about your love life!"

Usagi-san scoffed. "Love life?"

"Yes. And that was while the commercial showed a picture of my bedroom!" He was practically wailing by that point.

"That's ridiculous," Usagi-san said, and Misaki felt a rush of gratitude for the author. That was right, Usagi-san would straighten everything—"You don't even have a bedroom! We share one," he finished, a note of pride in his voice.

Had he been standing within striking range, Misaki would have _definitely _strangled him. "THAT IS ALSO NOT THE POINT," he shrieked into the phone. Somewhere else in the house, Mahiro called his name in excited waves. "Usagi-san, do you not get it? What are they planning to say about me?"

Usagi-san sighed. "I really don't think you need to worry about it. It's just a hook, a way to bring in viewers."

Well, that did sound possible. The thought had crossed Misaki's mind, too, but it wasn't enough to quell his rising anxiety.

"Please make sure," Misaki said, "please, please, _please_?"

Usagi-san sighed again, weary. "Fine," he agreed. "I'll ask. But I'm curious: would it really be so bad? People knowing?"

Misaki hesitated. "I—Isaka-san said—" He trailed off. "It's not like that, Usagi-san."

Another long pause followed, and Misaki felt his heart dropping lower with every passing second. At last, Usagi-san spoke, but not the words Misaki wanted to hear: "I have to go." He _did _sound put out about it, though. "Don't forget! I'll pick you up after classes." Somewhere in the background, Misaki could make out the sound of Aikawa's voice.

"I won't. Night, Usagi-san."

"I love you. Sleep well." Then, the line cut.

Misaki dropped his phone on his pillow and flopped lifelessly down onto the bed. Was that what Usagi-san thought? That Misaki was ashamed of him—of _them_? He wasn't! Absolutely not!

But even as he thought it, Misaki recalled his earlier conversation with Toudou, the look on his friend's face when he asked, "Why?" He thought of his readiness to leave Usagi-san's side just because Iwate and Isaka suggested it. He thought of the way he ignored the man's calls, refused to associate with him around people he knew, and always, _always _blamed Usagi-san for causing 'misunderstandings' with his clingy behavior. Perhaps, looking at it that way, Misaki could understand why Usagi-san would get the wrong impression.

Feeling more than a little disgusted with himself, Misaki blinked fiercely against the sudden watery burn at the corners of his eyes. Something needed to be done, he knew that much.

He just couldn't figure out _what_.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: This chapter was delayed because I'm in the midst of finals right now. I usually sit down and write a chapter in one go, but this one was written in bits and pieces during spare time. So updates will be slow for the next week! Also, a big thank you to missmysty, who pointed out that magical little blue button on the reviews. I can reply to things now! Or will, once finals are over? As usual, thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, etc.

Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Nakamura Shungiku, et al. I make no profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

><p>Misaki sent Usagi-san a message before he went to class telling the man to park down the street from campus so as not to make a scene. Even so, he wasn't surprised to see the red sports car parked directly in front of the campus as he made his way toward the road, though the blatant disregard of his request didn't quite put him in a 'date' kind of mood.<p>

"You're causing a scene," Misaki said, climbing into the car. "_Again_."

"I've never done such a thing in my life," Usagi-san replied, and as if it would somehow prove his point, he peeled out, nearly clipping one of the university students attempting to cross the road. Misaki covered his mouth and twisted around, watching the guy wave (without all his fingers, mind) angrily after them, growing smaller and smaller until Usagi-san took a sharp right.

"Right," Misaki said, voice tight. "Of course not."

"We're going on a trip," Usagi-san spoke over any complaints Misaki might have had.

"I only told Nii-chan I'd be gone for the night…"

"I'll escort you home in the morning. Promise."

It's not that Misaki didn't believe him. It was more that he had _no idea where the hell they were going _that bothered him. Usagi-san pulled onto the freeway, merging without checking his rear view mirror, and Misaki swore his lungs just stopped working for a moment.

"Where are we going?" he finally asked, his heart rate returning to normal.

"It's a surprise. Be patient." And then Usagi-san gave him one of _those_ smile, the ones that spoke _I love you _just as easily as the man himself did.

Misaki gave a loud _harrumph _and slouched in his seat, staring fixedly out the window and ignoring the reflection of his burning face.

He must have slipped off to sleep at some point, because one moment, he was staring at cars passing by, and the next he was blinking tiredly at a parking lot. The car was still, and Usagi-san was not in the driver's seat.

Apprehension playing at his gut, Misaki rubbed his eyes and looked around the parking lot, which seemed to extend forever into the horizon. It was still light outside, and a quick look at his phone told him almost exactly an hour had passed since Usagi-san picked him up from the university.

Climbing out of the car, Misaki kept one hand on the top of the door while he looked around, squinting into the distance. It was a parking garage rather than a lot on its own, and he was on the top level. But where was Usagi-san? It seemed odd that the man would just leave Misaki sleeping in the car and walk away.

He fumbled his phone back out of his pocket and called Usagi-san, still shaking off the fog wrapped 'round his brain after the unintentional power nap. He never did handle napping during the day with grace. Usually, he wandered around for hours after like a zombie, somehow feeling both exhausted and ill just from catching some quick rest.

The line picked up and rang twice before Usagi-san answered. "You're awake."

"Where are you?" Scratch that, Misaki thought. Where was _he_?

"Checking us in. Come down, the entrance is right by the exit from the garage." And then he hung up.

"If he was going to make me come down anyway, he should have just gotten me up!" Misaki locked the car and looked around for the exit. There was an elevator, and he quickly discovered that he was in an eight-level garage. What kind of hotel had an eight-level parking garage?

Of course, once he got to the exit, he quickly figured the answer out: it was a huge hotel, and the doors alone looked terribly expensive. Usagi-san always did go all out.

The garage was attached to the hotel by a sort of tunnel, which prevented any view of whatever was outside. It was dimly lit and had plush red carpeting. He had trouble understanding the point of such an expense, but then, Misaki figured he was too low-brow anyway.

Usagi-san was in the lobby, standing just to the right of the front desk and staring off at a large fountain that was actually _in _the lobby: it was covered in blinking, multicolored lights. Just looking at it gave Misaki a headache.

"This is kind of over the top," Misaki told him. "I thought we'd just go to a movie and get dinner, or something!"

"That was my initial plan," Usagi-san admitted. "But I ran into a problem."

He'd actually been planning for a normal date? Misaki had a little trouble buying that. "Problem?"

"The camera crew. They got word somehow that I was going to meet someone and insisted that one of them come along."

Well, that would have been bad. Misaki cringed. "What happened?"

"I told them I had to go buy cigarettes and made a run for it." That Usagi-san could look so serious about his childish escape plans made Misaki want to laugh.

Feeling rather proud that he kept a straight face, Misaki shook his head. "Aikawa is seriously going to kill you."

"She already knew what I was planning," Usagi-san said dispassionately."She'll take care of things. Come, let's go to the room."

On the brief trip to the room, Misaki managed to completely overwhelm himself with the sheer posh atmosphere of the hotel. Even the Teito Hotel hadn't been so nice! It occurred to him that this one might have the bath lions, but the fact that he was so concentrated on something so stupid made him feel a bit irritated with himself. At his side, Usagi-san was, of course, completely unaffected by the high class glamour.

"Here it is." Usagi-san pulled out the card key and slid it into the slot, then shoved the door open, holding it for Misaki to go in first. "I already had the bags sent up."

"Bags? But I didn't bring any—" On the bed – the _single_ king-sized bed, Misaki was unsurprised to note – sat two travel bags. Both of them looked brand new.

"I packed for you," Usagi-san said, already lighting up a smoke. "But since I had to escape, I didn't have time to actually bring any of your things. I just went to the store and got everything new."

"Why didn't you just tell me to bring clothes?" Misaki demanded, pointing at the bed. "That's such a waste!"

Grabbing the hotel-issue ashtray, Usagi-san ashed his cigarette and stared pensively at the irate young man. "It was a surprise. I didn't want to ruin it."

Right. Of course. Misaki rolled his eyes and huffed and made a grand spectacle of his irritation, but that didn't stop the little bundle of warmth from seeping out of his heart. He wanted Usagi-san to be prepared in the event of an emergency, to not go hungry if he somehow lost everything – including his writing career. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel touched at the man's grand gestures. It never failed to get his heart thumping every time, even as the much more practical part of his mind scorned the very idea.

Misaki sat at the edge of the bed, surveying the room. "So," he began, "did you ever, er, talk to people about that thing?"

"Thing?"

"The," Misaki shrugged helplessly, "the love life thing."

"Ah." Usagi-san took a drag, exhaled slowly, then snubbed his cigarette out in the tray. "They said it was nothing to worry about. Just a hook." He gave Misaki a sideways look. "Like I told you."

"I just wanted to be sure. It would be bad for you otherwise."

"I wouldn't mind. I have nothing to be ashamed of."

The last part sounded pointed, hitting too close to home for Misaki to consider it anything but an accusation. He couldn't help the irritation welling in his chest. "Neither do I," he snapped defensively.

Usagi-san's eyebrows shot up. "I never said you did."

_You didn't need to_, Misaki wanted to say. But then, feeling somewhat discouraged by the way he was so stuck on the idea, Misaki abruptly switched the topic. "Why this hotel, anyway?"

"I stayed here once for an award ceremony. Not mine, though, for another author. I remember liking the place well enough." Usagi-san came and sat down close to Misaki, their thighs pressed together. Warmth spiraled in Misaki's core, and he unintentionally leaned in to the man.

"I guess it's pretty nice," he admitted. "But it looks so expensive!"

"Only to you." Usagi-san pressed his forehead to Misaki's, closing his eyes and smiling blissfully. _This_ was the closeness Misaki missed. It wasn't the—the _other_ stuff so much, Usagi-san's pouncing, but just the quiet moments they sat close together, or just talked, or ate together. Living with his brother felt stale, and even though Misaki didn't want to admit it –to be sure, he didn't believe himself even capable of admitting it – doing anything without Usagi-san felt hollow as of late. He wondered why it took being alone for him to see that.

Misaki's stomach took that moment to growl loudly, shattering the intimacy with an overwhelming gurgling noise.

"Sorry," Misaki said, sitting away and staring at his hands. "I didn't eat lunch! I thought we were going to, and so…" He shrugged.

"It's fine. I'll call for room service." The interruption didn't seem to faze Usagi-san at all. He still looked just as happy as he leaned away, stretching his arm to grab the menu from the bedside table. He handed it to Misaki. "Order whatever you want."

"What about you?"

"You know what I like."

"Pasta with green peppers it is."

Usagi-san scowled.

* * *

><p>It wasn't much different from being home, Misaki decided as they stacked the empty dishes back onto the room service tray and set it out in the hall. Usagi-san was sitting at the table smoking, and Misaki was flipping through one of his new textbooks and shooting question after question at the man. It wasn't anything like a date. He'd even tried dropping a few hints about going out, but the older man didn't bite.<p>

Figuring subtlety was wasted, Misaki decided to just say it outright: "Usagi-san, why don't we go somewhere?"

"Research," Usagi-san answered, and beckoned Misaki closer.

He walked over to the table, and Usagi-san leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "What the hell?"

"For a BL novel," the man continued over Misaki's spluttering. "I've never had a secret love affair before." He sounded almost wistful.

Before he stopped to think about it, Misaki rolled his eyes and said, "Then what do you call us?"

"Just in love."

The answer left Misaki so flustered he couldn't quite respond for a few moments. Then, "Yeah," he said quietly, "I guess that's right."

"Oh? A confession so early?" Trust Usagi-san to ruin any potential moment.

"Yeah, right," Misaki scoffed, climbing to his feet. "Well, I still say we should go some—"

But Usagi-san was not to be deterred. He jumped up just as quickly, intent on sweeping Misaki off his feet. Literally.

"YOU ASS," Misaki howled, flailing his arms. "PUT ME DOWN."

"Understood!" Usagi-san complied cheerfully, dropping him on the bed and crawling after him. By the time Misaki managed to right himself, Usagi-san was already guiding him down, his back to the mattress.

"I should've expected this," Misaki said, shooting the darkest glare he could muster at the man prowling over him like an over-sized wildcat. Despite his grumblings, however, Misaki's hands were already resting lightly on Usagi-san's shoulders.

"You should have," the older man agreed, sliding a hand up Misaki's shirt to rest on the soft, flat plane of his stomach. "Really, you ought to know better."

At that point, Misaki just huffed and gave in. Really, the only thing he was surprised about was that it had taken the man so long to get Misaki in bed. He'd been expecting – though definitely not hoping! – to wind up on his back within about thirty seconds of walking into the hotel suite.

Usagi-san nipped his ear, and his hands wasted no time in going to work. "How do you want it? I'll do whatever you like."

Really, Misaki thought, irritated at how even his _thoughts _sounded breathless, he should have been expecting this.

* * *

><p>The amount of time they could spend in bed shocked Misaki. Of course, such thoughts often led to darker arenas, so he didn't entertain them for long. At some point, night had fallen outside, and Usagi-san, finally having had enough of fighting his age, had flopped down on his back at Misaki's side, propped up against the headboard with two pillows, smoking idly as he flipped through channels on the television.<p>

Misaki was on his stomach, his head pillowed in his arms. The room was stifling, but he didn't want to kick the sheets off lest he stir Usagi-san into another frenzy. Granted, it was likely strange that he thought in such a way, but that didn't make it any less truer. The man was just that predictable.

"There's never anything on TV worth watching," the older man was complaining, waving the remote at the large-screen television.

"You're going to be on TV soon, you know." Misaki shifted onto his side, catching a glimpse of some game show or other before Usagi-san went back to channel surfing. "Are you going to watch it?"

"I have to." He sounded less than pleased about it, too. "There's a live segment at the end of the special. An interview. It's part of the contract."

"Ah, that's right. I forgot about that." Misaki's eyes were drooping. How the hell did he feel so wiped out already? A glance at the clock told him it was only a quarter past seven. _No way_, he thought. What was he, an old man? They hadn't even had dinner yet!

"Are you going to watch it?"

"Hm?" Misaki decided that if he didn't sit up, he'd lose the battle to sleep. Shifting up, and moving carefully so as not to let the sheets fall down, Misaki tugged one of the pillows away from Usagi-san and rested it against the headboard before leaning back against it. "Watch what?"

With something approaching hesitation, completely uncharacteristic of the man, he repeated himself: "Are you going to watch the show?"

Oh, _that _show. "Well, sure!" Did he really even need to ask? "I was going to watch it with you, but maybe I'll ask Toudou to come over and watch it with me." The passing mention of his friend stirred a memory of the awkward conversation they'd had. Of course, Toudou had never mentioned it again, but every time he thought of how he'd just lied to the guy he considered his closest friend, Misaki's gut knotted with guilt. "Ah, say, Usagi-san…"

"Hm?"

"If—" How was he supposed to ask this? "If you were going to, you know, tell someone," Misaki faltered. "About us, I mean. If you were going to tell them, how would you do it?"

Judging from the look on the man's face, that was the last thing he expected Misaki to ask. "How would I do it?" Usagi-san echoed. "I would just tell them. But Misaki, I can't imagine something working for me would necessarily work for you."

That was true. With Usagi-san's self-confidence – or rather, arrogance – the idea of telling someone about their relationship was likely as easy as breathing. But for Misaki, it felt daunting, an impossible task. His mind chased the possibility out of orbit with errant thoughts about rejection, humiliation, of that one little revelation somehow ruining everything for the both of them.

"Is there someone you want to tell?" Usagi-san asked it slowly, as though Misaki was a stray cat he was trying not to scare away.

Misaki tried to still his fidgeting hands by fisting them in the sheets. "I think so. Maybe. I mean—part of me thinks he might already know. Or maybe just suspects something is off?"

"Is it Takahiro?"

At that, Misaki laughed outright. "Nii-chan wouldn't suspect us of anything even if he caught us in the—uh, caught us doing anything! I'd have to spell it out for him."

"Then who?"

"Well…" It was all right, wasn't it? If he couldn't tell Usagi-san, then who _could_ he possibly expect to understand? "Toudou. I just—he—he kind of asked. And I didn't, well, I mean—I _lied _to him! And he's, you know, he's my friend!"

Usagi-san got the strangest look on his face, like he couldn't settle on one way to feel, so his mouth kept twitching up and then down, and his eyes were wide open. "Really?" He breathed the word.

"I feel like he deserves to know," Misaki said. "If he's my friend, then I shouldn't lie to him."

After a moment of quiet, Usagi-san said, quite gently: "What will you do if you tell him, and he decides _not_ to be your friend?"

Which, Misaki supposed, was the dilemma he'd been chasing 'round his head since Toudou had asked him about Usagi-san. "I don't know," he said. "I mean—I guess—" He didn't have an answer for that. If Toudou reacted negatively, then that would be that. There was no magical fix-all for any kind of relationship. It would just mean that Misaki had driven a knife between them without any way of retracting it.

"Would it be worth it?" Usagi-san hadn't sounded so serious since—well, since Misaki couldn't even remember! "It's your choice, Misaki. Don't feel like you have to tell anyone."

"Oh, what the hell! You got all mopey last night because you thought I didn't want anyone to know about us!"

"Who, me?" Usagi-san laughed. "You must be confused."

_Asshole, asshole, ASSHOLE!_"Yes, you!"

Usagi-san, still chuckling, snubbed out his cigarette and then reached over to pat Misaki's head. "As I told you, the choice is yours. That you're even considering it makes me happier than you could possibly imagine." The look on his face, the carefree crinkling of his eyes, the soft upward lilt of his mouth, spoke volumes of just how true that was.

His face returning to that cursed red, Misaki ducked his head and stared at his hands, relaxing them. Usagi-san was right. It was his choice, entirely so, and he couldn't make it based on what anyone else thought. If he decided telling Toudou was the right thing to do, then he'd do it.

That he'd already made the decision, perhaps even before he'd mentioned it to Usagi-san, even before he'd quite realized it himself, occurred to him then, and an even feeling of peace relaxed his tangled stomach.

"Yeah," he said. "Thanks, Usagi-san."

* * *

><p>The next morning was terribly rushed. Misaki needed to get back home, of course, but starting at about nine, Usagi-san's cell phone had rang off the hook with frantic calls from Aikawa, demanding that he return. She was polite about it, especially since it was Misaki who had to relay the messages, but he could tell she was at the end of her rope.<p>

"The production team is panicking," she told him. "They need to do their job, but without sensei here, there's nothing they can do!"

"I'm getting him up," Misaki promised. "He's on his way! Two more hours, tops, and he'll be there!"

If only it was that simple.

Waking Usagi-san up was the first step. The man could sleep through any explosion, and while Misaki had been on the phone with Aikawa, he'd watched the wayward author slowly but surely tangle himself deeper into the sheets, as though to say, _no, you cannot make me get up._

"Usagi-san, come on!" Misaki pleaded, running around and shoving all their things back into their bags. He was wearing the brand new clothes Usagi-san bought him and feeling rather strange about how obviously high-end they were. "We have to go!"

"Five more minutes," he grumbled.

"You said that five minutes ago!"

It was another fifteen minutes before Misaki managed to shove the man out of bed – literally. He'd gotten so sick of the grumbled whining that he'd just grabbed the sheets and forced Usagi-san off the bed and onto the floor with a rather satisfying _thump_.

"This was supposed to be relaxing," Misaki muttered as Usagi-san shoved clothes on and waited for the coffee marker to finish brewing. "This is _not relaxing_."

In the time it took for Usagi-san to chug a helping of coffee and smoke through the first cigarette of the day, Misaki managed to get all of their bags, neatly packed, lined up by the door. Sure, there were only two of them, plus his school bag, but with all the crap Usagi-san had somehow managed to shove into them, it was more of a task than he'd expected.

"All right, all right," Usagi-san said at last. "We're good. Let's go." He grabbed both of the bags, leaving Misaki to hold only his school bag, and opened the door. But Misaki only made it two steps into the hall before he heard the telltale _thump_ of the bags hitting the ground. Usagi-san grabbed him and whirled him around, pushing Misaki against the closed door of their suite and kissing him soundly.

Misaki didn't even have the time to put up the pretense of a fighting attitude, because just as quickly as it had happened, Usagi-san leaned back, looking smug as hell. "One for the road," he explained.

The cheeky bastard.

Rather than immediately leveling him with a dark look and really letting him have it, though, Misaki froze. Just over Usagi-san's shoulder, right outside the room across the hall, was a girl about Misaki's age, her cell phone in one hand while the other was pressed tight over her mouth.

Usagi-san, catching Misaki's expression, turned and looked over his shoulder. After a moment, he offered the girl a surprisingly pleasant, "Good morning."

The girl turned tail and fled back into her hotel room.

"Oh my god," Misaki moaned. "Why do you do things like this?" He covered his face and breathed deeply.

"I couldn't say." Did he have to sound so cheerful? Usagi-san patted Misaki on the head, stooped down to grab the bags again, and walked down the hall, a spring in his step.

Mortified and quite certain his face would never lose its flush again, Misaki hurried after him.


End file.
